Mistress for Hire

by Niobia Bryant

He buried his head between them, turning first left and then right to suck the side of each.

  “Lick ’em,” she begged in a hot whisper as she arched her back over and over to bring her core up to the tip of his dick to squeeze with her walls before the next downstroke.

  And he did, his tongue flickering against one nipple and then the other, back and forth. Each lick more delicious than the last.

  She loved that and he knew it.

  She got wetter. The sounds of the sex play echoed in the room.

  Her entire body tingled with passion, satisfaction, and anticipation.

  “Suck my nipples,” she ordered softly.

  He did.

  She arched her back higher and higher, feeling a bit of his release leave the line and coat her walls. Her moves on him were easier. Less friction. The glide of the base of his dick against her clit slickened.

  She freed her breast from his mouth. “Look at me,” she ordered into the heat between them as she sat up, taking his hands into hers to draw up her body to her breasts.

  The candlelight was beautiful against their brown skins and illuminated in their eyes. The mood was sultry. The music serenaded. The connection between them intense and electrifying.

  “I’m coming,” she whispered to him, her eyes locked on his as she looked down at him.

  “I know,” he panted, his chest rising and falling beneath her hands. “I feel it.”

  She smiled and lightly bit her bottom lip. “Join me,” she requested.

  He grunted and thrust his hips upward, clenching his teeth. “I . . . I . . . am.”

  They never looked away from each as their thrusts and glides quickened in pace and deepened as they climaxed in unison.

  She felt his heart pound against her palm, matching her own. Their bodies swung between trembles and going stiff. Sweat coated their bodies. The temperature of the room elevated. The headboard lightly knocked against the wall.

  They cried out roughly.

  In that moment, as she felt her release coat his inches, she didn’t care. Not one bit.

  Hammer sat up and wrapped his arms around her, one hand gripping the roots of her hair and the other clutching one cheek of her soft buttocks. He buried his face against her neck and sucked the spot where her pulse thumped as he filled her with his seed.

  Jessa was weak, but she continued to ride him, helping to push him over the edge as she held him close and lightly bit his muscled shoulder. “Fill it up,” she begged him.

  Hammer’s body went stiff. “Jessa, your mama!” he roared.

  She looked to the door.

  Her eyes widened in shock at Darla standing in the doorway with her hand still on the knob as she watched them.

  Hammer slid from under her and rolled off the bed onto the floor to hide his nudity from her mother’s eyes.

  Darla began to cackle, loud and erratic, her eyes and her mouth wide.

  “What is wrong with you?” Jessa screeched, rising from the bed to rush across the room, grab her mother’s shoulders, and push her back out of the room before she stepped back in alone and closed the door.

  “How long was she standing there?” Jessa asked as she crossed the room and came around the bed to look down at Hammer sitting on the floor with his legs bent and his arms stretched out over his knees.

  Hammer shrugged. “I opened my eyes and she was standing there,” he said, his voice annoyed.

  Jessa grabbed her housecoat from the door of the closet, twirling it around her body to slide it on. “How much liquor was in that damn eggnog?” she asked as she jerked the edges closed and tied it with hard movements.

  Hammer rose with ease and began blowing out the candles, his dick now limp and spent. “Not much, but you don’t have to worry about it. After tonight, liquor is banned from the whole house.”

  “Even my locked wine cellar for which only I have the key?” she asked as she walked over to the door.

  Hammer shook his head. “Ask me again when we’re not a few minutes fresh off your mother watching us fuck,” he said.

  “Deal,” Jessa agreed. “I’ll be back.”

  Beyond the door, after she closed it, Jessa gave herself a moment to lean against it. She didn’t know if she was more embarrassed or angry or a mix of both. With a deep breath, she walked down the hall to her mother’s suite. She knocked softly on the door twice before turning the knob and pushing it open. It was her turn to stand in the open doorway and stare at her. Darla sat in the custom La-Z-Boy next to her bed with the footrest up high and her mouth again open in her sleep as she snored.

  “I don’t believe you’re really sleeping, Mama,” she said. “Hell, you probably weren’t really knocked out downstairs either.”

  Jessa walked into the room and opened the drawer holding the medicine caddy. All the appropriate slots were empty. “These psych pills better be down your throat and not tossed away,” she warned, closing the drawer and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  Darla’s snores continued like a low-key chain saw.

  “But I’ll say this right now and then again in the morning,” Jessa told her. “You have one more time to drink even a thimble of alcohol and I am done. So I’d advise you not to put lips to nothing else unless you poured it yourself from an unopened soda, water, or juice bottle.”

  More snores.

  Jessa rose and made her way back to the door. “Like I said, we will go over this in the morning,” she said over her shoulder before reaching for the knob and closing the door behind her as she left.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, hating that in her mind’s eye, parts of her life were truly unraveling.

  Chapter 8

  The water of the lake was still. The only ripples were caused by the gentle motion of the boat. The rays from the sun broke up its darkness, and the sound of nature echoed with beauty.

  The scene was surreal.

  On the middle seat of the rowboat, Jessa turned to her left and smiled at her daughter Delaney. She reached over and squeezed her hand. “I am so thankful to have both of you in my life,” she said, turning to look at Georgia sitting on the other end of the boat, nearly her twin and in her mid-twenties.

  Jessa reached for her hand as well. “Both my daughters,” she said with pleasure. “Now my life is complete.”

  Suddenly the sun disappeared beneath gray clouds.

  “We better go home,” Jessa said, taking the oars in her hands and beginning to row backward.

  Thunder and lightning erupted, momentarily breaking up the darkness. The rain came moments later, heavy and steady. Cold winds stirred, causing waves and rocking their small boat.

  “Shit,” Jessa swore, looking around and seeing the vast amount of water as a threat. Through the veil of rain, the shore seemed too far in the distance to reach.

  She rowed harder, feeling the strain in her shoulders, arms, and back. She didn’t care. She had to save them. It rested on her shoulders. Her daughters depended on her. “Hold on, girls,” she shouted, some of the rain entering her open mouth.

  The wind whipped around them, pushing and rocking them.

  A scream rang out.

  Jessa turned just as Delaney fell into the water, her arms and legs flailing. “Noooooo,” she roared, reaching out to grab her wrist.

  “Mama, save me. Please don’t let me go,” Delaney said before a wave rose and covered her head.

  Jessa desperately clung to her wrist with both of her hands as she pressed her sneakered feet to the side of the boat for leverage.

  Another scream.

  Jessa’s eyes were wide as she looked back over her shoulder as Georgia tipped over the side and into the dark depths of the water as well. “Please, God,” she prayed, futilely shaking her head to divert the rain obscuring her vision.

  She freed one hand to reach and grab one of Georgia’s thrashing limbs.

  With a grunt, she leaned backward, trying her best to pull them above the depths. “Lord, help me. Please help me save
my daughters,” she begged, her desperation giving rise to tears that blended with the rain showers.

  “Mama, save me,” they cried out in unison.

  She looked from one to the other.

  Panic clawed at her. She had never felt so hopeless. So useless . . .

  Jessa awakened with a start, sitting straight up in bed. She covered her face with her hands as she released short, rapid breaths that caused her chest to rise and fall. She couldn’t stop the rise of tears as all of the emotions from her dream clung to her reality. “Oh God,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

  The loss felt all too real.

  She knew the implications. She understood the symbolism.

  I can’t have it all.

  Mindful of Hammer’s body in the bed beside her, Jessa eased her knees to her chest and buried her face in the small space between them to release a silent scream, wishing she could truly let out a yell of frustration. She felt alone with nothing but her thoughts, fears, and guilt to surround her.

  She flung back the covers and rose from her bed, pulling on her red satin robe, to make her way across the room and through the door to Delaney’s bedroom. She stood by her bed and took comfort in her restfully sleeping, trying not to feel foolish for carefully watching for the rise and fall of her belly to ensure she was breathing.

  Did Georgia ever have someone love her and watch over her in her sleep?

  Did she have a good nanny and a professionally designed nursery? High-end clothing? A trust fund?

  Safety? Security?

  Is she still alive? Healthy?

  Does she know she was adopted?

  Does she ever wonder about me? Her father?

  Jessa grimaced, feeling her stomach revolt at the truth of Georgia’s parentage. She turned and walked back into her bedroom. She paused to find Hammer sitting up in bed. He reached to bathe the room in soft light from the lamp on the bedside table.

  “You ready to talk?” he asked, his voice deep and warm.

  Maybe I should tell him the truth? Tell him about my father? Tell him about Georgia?

  “Talk about what?” she said with feigned nonchalance as she made her way back to her side of the bed and removed her robe.

  “Whatever it is you’re hiding from me,” he countered, even as his brown eyes dipped to take in her nudity.

  She sat down on the edge and faked an elaborate yawn, with an arm stretch and all, before lying down as she pulled the sheet and duvet up around her shoulders. “I just got up to check on Delaney,” she lied. “Go back to sleep.”

  He became quiet.

  Jessa tried her best to relax as she waited for the movement of the bed signaling he had he lain down as well.

  It never came.

  “You know, I think it’s bullshit that you’re willing to share your life with the world and not with me,” he said, breaking the silence.

  Damn.

  Jessa grimaced.

  “Yes, this is an old argument between us, but I think it’s time we finished it,” Hammer said.

  She turned over to face him, easing her hand across his thigh to stroke his dick. “Let me help put you back to sleep,” she said, leaning forward to take him into her mouth.

  He pressed a palm to her forehead to stop her. “Not gonna work,” he insisted.

  She flopped onto her back on her side of the bed. “Robert, please,” she begged, reverting to his given name in hopes he would understand that she was serious about not divulging her past.

  “Robert?” he balked. “Now I know you’re hiding some shit.”

  Her anger sparked like a lit flame. “This is not what you want, Hammer, so leave me be,” she warned, turning her scarf-covered head on the pillow to give him a hard stare.

  “What the hell does that mean?” he asked.

  She sat up and the covers dropped to her waist. “Okay, ‘Mr. Open and Aboveboard at All Times,’” she snapped. “Why haven’t I met anyone in your family or any of your friends? Your mother in California? Your son in Paris? Your friends? Not a one. What are your secrets? Maybe you have a few of your own so your ass is so sure I have some because the only difference between us sneaking and fucking and now is a ring. Nothing else. Not a damn thing else, Hammer.”

  Jessa felt triumphant when his face became perplexed. Take that, motherfucker. Now back up off me.

  “This desire to know more about me just hit you?” he asked, now looking disbelieving.

  “No,” she said.

  But that was somewhat of a lie. It had crossed her mind in the week since their engagement, but the idea of introducing new people into her inner circle hadn’t appealed to her. She had decided not to push the issue until she just slapped it on the figurative card table as her trump card.

  “I just figured you would meet everyone at the wedding in three months, but it’s easy to fix,” Hammer said. “No problem. Whatever you want.”

  Backfired big-time. Shit!

  “It never crossed my mind to arrange a meet-up before then because I’m a fully grown man who doesn’t need anyone’s approval to marry the woman I love.”

  Jessa shifted her eyes away from him.

  “What’s crazy is I could’ve just researched your background—”

  Her eyes darted to him.

  “But I didn’t,” he said. “I want you to tell me. I want you to share your life with me. I want to be able to trust you.”

  “You don’t trust me?” she asked.

  “Fully? How can I when my gut tells me you’re keeping something from me?”

  “It’s not another lover,” Jessa admitted.

  Hammer smiled, reaching out to playfully tweak one of her nipples. “That I know,” he said.

  She glanced away from him, to the door leading to the outside hall. Her mind flashed back to the night her mother had stood there and watched them having sex. She closed her eyes and shook her head as if to free it of the memory forever.

  No such luck.

  “You’re wrong to assume I shared everything about my life in the book,” she began, pulling up the sheet to cover her breasts. “There is so much more.”

  Hammer pressed a warm hand to her bare back.

  “Delaney is not my only child,” Jessa confessed, keeping her face averted from his.

  The hand disappeared.

  She pressed her eyes closed and told him her secrets, hating that clear and vivid images of every bit of it replayed as she talked. She felt it all as if it was happening to her right in that moments instead of over twenty years ago. And when she was done relaying the horror, the loss, the shame, and the continuing guilt, the breath she released was shaky.

  “Jessa,” Hammer said softly, settling his hand on her shoulder and pulling her toward him. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I am so sorry I pressed you.”

  Jessa nodded. “It was for the best. Now there are no secrets between us,” she said, settling her body back against the strength of his.

  “And your father?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

  She winced.

  The rape she never forgot. The moment he slit his own throat when he awakened from his drunken stupor and realized that he had violated his daughter? That she normally repressed. “He’s dead,” was all that she replied.

  “And your child?”

  “I never saw her after her birth.”

  “She?” he asked.

  Jessa nodded. “A girl.”

  “We could find her,” Hammer offered.

  With both hands, Jessa tightly gripped the arm he had wrapped around her. “No,” she insisted. “I think it’s better she never meets me or knows the truth . . . about . . . about . . .”

  She shook her head, unable to say the words or relive the torturous moments again.

  “Do you wonder about her?”

  “Of course. More so since I had Delaney,” she admitted, feeling her tension about sharing the truth ease.

  “Listen, give me some info—which I noticed you withh
eld—and let me check on her,” Hammer offered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

  “No.”

  “We don’t have to reach out to her or speak to her. We’re just checking that she’s okay,” he pressed.

  “No,” Jessa snapped. She felt instant remorse and sat up to turn on the bed and face him. “This is for the best, Hammer.”

  He opened his mouth.

  She covered his lips with her fingertips. “I’ve changed, and for my own good I have to move forward,” she said. “I have to because her family has done enough disservice to her and I can’t risk the truth fucking her up in any way. Can you imagine finding out your grandfather is also your father?”

  Hammer kissed her fingertips before removing them from his mouth. “I don’t agree, but I respect your decision.”

  Jessa felt relieved.

  “I just want a quiet, normal life. No drama,” she said. “That’s why I turned down an offer to write another book or have the first one made into a movie.”

  Hammer smiled. “Thank God,” he agreed. “No regrets?”

  “Not a one,” she said truthfully.

  “You want me to make you a cup of tea or something?” Hammer offered.

  “No, I really just want lay my head on your chest and try to sleep,” she said.

  He reached back and turned off the lamp before lying down and pulling her body with him. “You have led one helluva life, Jessa,” he said.

  “Yes, but I think this is the best part of it,” she said, stroking the hard contours of his chest. “At least I hope it is. I can’t take too much more.”

  “This is the best part. I promise you that,” he said, gently massaging her lower back.

  They fell silent. Soon the sounds of Hammer’s snores echoed against her ear. Sleep didn’t come to her as easily. Fear of another nightmare centered on her daughters kept her awake long into the night.

  * * *

  “Mama, save me.”

  “Jessa.”

  She blinked, putting aside dark visions of drowning daughters, as she met the eyes of Keegan from across the table in their favorite upscale soul food lunch spot. “Yes?” she said.

  “What do you want to order?” Keegan asked, glancing up at the waiter with a polite smile.